


Not A White Little Lamb

by Socrateez



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Case Fic, F/M, Humor, Implied Sexual Content, Jealous John, M/M, Resolved Sexual Tension, Sherlock is Not a Virgin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-11
Updated: 2016-03-11
Packaged: 2018-05-26 04:22:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6223690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Socrateez/pseuds/Socrateez
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock Holmes. It was such a strange name. John wouldn’t have believed that he’d ever meet someone with such a name, never mind live with them.<br/>Sherlock was smart, intelligent, good-looking, lived independently and definitely earned enough to support himself to live in a good if not great neighbourhood in the heart of London. Sherlock Holmes was, for lack of a better word, a catch! So why was he still, well... alone?</p><p>[Case-ficlet. Right after A Study In Pink. The one in which John realises Sherlock is not a virgin, and gets mad jealous of one lucky(not!) girl. Sherlock finds it all very amusing and intriguing.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not A White Little Lamb

                Sherlock Holmes. It was such a strange name. John wouldn’t have believed that he’d ever meet someone with such a name, never mind live with them. And yet, incredibly he had met one of the most fascinatingly amazing and annoying people ever.

            It had only been a week since he had started living with Sherlock, but he had already observed some strange habits about him. Sherlock never woke up early unnecessarily. He was a nocturnal creature, but only the way a scientist or an artist might be, so carried away with his experiment or muse. In fact, considering that he didn’t have a fixed day job, John supposed Sherlock was actually quite disciplined in the regard of his health, unless he was on a case, then it all went to hell. He still remembered Sherlock asking him what day it was when asked about eating during the case of ‘A Study in Pink’.

            But certain things about him simply made John’s curiosity arouse in a way no other human being ever had before. Sherlock was smart, intelligent, good-looking, lived independently and definitely earned enough to support himself to live in a good if not great neighbourhood in the heart of London. Sherlock Holmes was, for lack of a better word, a catch! So why was he still, well... alone?

            Clearly Sherlock didn’t have it in his mind to be with someone, and John’s social life actually seemed vibrant compared his. Friends, family, colleagues, birthdays, parties were clearly not his thing. So what was his thing? Which way did Sherlock Holmes, the great enigma, bend? Had he ever had a lover? A string of lovers? Had he maybe experimented with things and people, just like (John suspected) he had dabbled in drugs? There was no sure way to know this, and being a straight bloke, comfortable in his sexuality; John had no mind to venture beyond these long, pointless spirals of thoughts that came to him sometimes when he watched Sherlock play a slow tune on his violin that stirred something in him, or when after solving a case on a high he was finally about to fall asleep and his mind would wander, inexplicably to Sherlock.

            And that was where it would have ended, with John being serenely oblivious, were it not for a visitor that came knocking on 221B one fine evening.

            “Really, John, are you not familiar with the concept of how a door works? Do open it quickly now before Mrs.Hudson comes barging in and starts serving tea to some client who turns out to be terminally boring.”, said Sherlock planking on the sofa in the most typically toddler-ish fashion.

            John huffed, “I was in the kitchen Sherlock! Putting up the groceries! The least you can do after lying there all day and moping about is get the do-” John stopped talking as the opened door in front of him revealed a rather beautiful woman with a dazzling smile, possibly in her early thirties if not any younger.

“I guess you must John? John Watson? I’m Nancy Barrymore. I’m sorry I didn’t call ahead, but since I’ve known Sherlock since school, I was hoping it wouldn’t be too much of an issue?” she said with pretence at casualness with her endearing smile.

            John was dazzled for a moment before he gave a wide smile and welcomed her in.

“It’s no trouble, any friends of Sherlock are welcome here.”, he motioned her towards the chair.  The words ‘friends of Sherlock’ seemed odd coming out of his mouth, and he looked expectantly towards Sherlock, who had, for some reason frozen in his chair.

            Nancy looked a bit timidly at Sherlock, which was surprising for a woman as beautiful and confident as her, though, John thought, people usually reacted strangely around Sherlock.  Sherlock, seemed to thankfully have recovered from his bizarre fit and was staring at Nancy with a calculating and suspicious look.

Nancy cleared her throat. “Erm, Sherlock you must be wondering why I’ve come to see you suddenly after so long.”

   “No.”

“I’m sorry?”

  “No. I’m not wondering. I think I can hazard a guess. Actually, no. I have a perfectly good idea why you’re here. Though I’m curious what made you see me.”

  “I’m sorry, I don’t get you. If you know why I’m here then...”

 

    “I know the why of the reason for you being here, but not the why of the person you’ve come to see. Why me? You are from a considerably rich family, you even have a considerable number of connections in the Secret Service, and Mycroft ... ah, Mycroft.”, he finished bitterly.

 

“Yeah, Mycroft.” , she said quietly.

 

   “Go on, then, I suppose you want to keep up the charade. So I’ll play my role, and you’ll play yours. Let’s not keep John waiting any further, and wipe that buffoonish look off his face. If he started thinking any louder I think my eardrums would burst.”  

 

“Well, as you know, I am married to one of the richest men in all of London. My father was a Tory and a businessman”, she said half-addressing John as he sat down. “And he has always been successful in his campaigns. Last year, my uncle stood up for elections and my father supported him and he won. But if you’ll have read the newspapers you would know that there was a scandal and that my uncle was told to step down from his most prestigious position. I wouldn’t say there was no fault of my uncle’s (“He had an affair with a much younger prostitute”, muttered Sherlock helpfully), but after it ended my uncle was just sort of broken. There was no one he could turn to, and my father was facing heavy losses in his business for supporting a candidate who was deemed “untrustworthy”. So our family faced a rather hard time in the past year. But then my father decided to stand for elections himself and started campaigning and meeting people from all over the world who would support his cause. (“Cough, Toryism, cough”) And that was how I met Michael.”

 

  “Michael, I assume is your current husband.”, Sherlock quirked an eyebrow.

   “And my only husband”, laughed Nancy. “Now come on Sherlock, be nice.”, she teased him in a tone that made John’s eyebrows shoot up into his hairline. So they were childhood friends, or whatever Sherlock presumed them to be since childhood.

    “Sherlock was always counting the number of men I went out with or the boyfriends I hung out with. Not as many as you’d imagine, I assure you.”, she smiled mischievously.

“Yes, moving on to how your husband had a hand in the embezzlement that seems to have struck your father’s campaign?”

    She gasped. “Well it was too much to hope that Sherlock Holmes wouldn’t figure that out,” she recovered. “Michael and I got married two months ago. I’ve never known a man to love me as much as Michael and I can’t really believe that something like that could happen to us, so soon after we just got married.”, she sighed sadly.

      “I know you Sherlock. I’ve known you for as long as I can remember since that time our parents forced us to build that sand castle when we all went out to the beach”, her eyes glazed over as she talked about the past. Whether she was play-acting or it was real, John thought the effect was good. “No matter what we think about each other now, and what we’ve done to each other”, she paused, “I trust you fully. I want you to prove that Michael is innocent and that this is just a big misunderstanding.”

Sherlock considered her for a moment. Then his deep voice intoned, “What is the sum of money that we’re talking about here?”

  Nancy took a piece of paper out of her purse and wrote on it. John looked at Sherlock and Sherlock rolled his eyes. Clearly, Nancy enjoyed the old-worldly conspiratorial air of beliefs like “Walls have ears” or something like that.

  When Nancy handed him the paper, Sherlock raised his eyebrows.

“This is no small amount. You can’t possibly believe that this was actually a misunderstanding. Someone did this and someone did this on purpose. If I catch the culprit and he turns out to be your husband, I will not be able to help you. I’ll consider it my moral, and er- ethical responsibility to hand him over to the police.” John smiled to himself. There was no doubt now that Sherlock was simply trying to get rid of her and her case. ‘Ethical responsibility’, scoffed John. There was a poor man whose eye-balls Sherlock had pickled in a jar in the oven two weeks ago and forgotten about.

    “Fine. If that is how you want to solve it, alright, but mark my words, my husband is innocent and that is all you’ll discover.” she got up rather suddenly. “I’ll be expecting a call from you Sherlock.” Sherlock stood up too.

She walked right up to him and looked deep into his eyes. For a moment, John forgot that this was Sherlock, and that this woman was their client. She raised a hand and very lightly, brushed it across Sherlock’s cheekbone, and dropped it so fast John was not sure if it actually happened. After one, last (wistful?) look at him, she walked out the door.

                                                                        ***

 

“Wow. What the hell was that?” exclaimed John, unable to contain himself any longer.

 

“That” replied Sherlock giving him a sidelong glance, “is what I believe you would call a woman.”

 

“A rather attractive one I would call her, but no, that’s not what I mean and you know that! Who is she?!”

 

“John, was that entire conversation really so moot for you? Did you not hear that she already has a husband, a rich old toff no doubt, but I would at least give them six more months. You might want to pursue some other lady friend.”, he murmured along in his rich baritone.

 

 John sighed and looked at the man in front of him who was a genius along with being the most clueless idiot he knew.

 

“No, you berk! What I meant was how do you two know each other? Um, what kind relationship did you have with her?”

 

“Nothing very salacious, I assure you. Our parents were family friends and unfortunately considered it appropriate that their children should end up being “friends” too.” he said, adding quotation marks to the word friends. “So various families and their insufferably intolerable children were forced upon Mycroft and I sometimes under the pretence of making friends or other times to simply babysit them while the elders had their boring dinners and drinks”, he rolled his eyes.

 

“What?” laughed John, “You actually babysit someone? That sounds so. . ironic”, the idea seemed so utterly bizarre that John took a minute to imagine it.

 

 “Ironic? How do you mean?”, Sherlock’s eyes flashed.

 

“Nothing.” John quickly changed the subject. “So that’s it. You two are just family friends? So I was simply imagining all the awkward tension in the living room?”

 

“Er..well..  She might have incidentally had feelings for me growing up. But it was all very much in the embarrassing past and as you can see we’ve both grown up.” He cleared his throat, much to John’s amusement.

 

“Then why are you squirming?”

“What?!”, Sherlock nearly yelped. And John did laugh this time.

“Oh come on, Sherlock! I may not have super deducing powers like you (on cue, Sherlock rolled his eyes), but I can definitely tell when it comes to ‘the matters of the heart’ as you call them. That woman was looking at you like you were a diamond that she’d like to wear on her hand.”

Sherlock snorted. “Congratulations on the worst analogy ever John. Honestly, how do you think these up? Do you have a book somewhere?”

“No use changing the subject”, smirked John.

“Alright. Since you may never stop this torturous line of questioning, I’ll say this only once. Now listen, because you are not going to force it out of me again. Nancy was the first girl I.. well, I lost my.. virginity to.”

For a moment, John felt like someone had slapped him. The smile on his face wiped off as if doused by cold water and he stood very still, his eyes staring into Sherlock’s.

Something inside John was whirring and moving and he thought that maybe he should sit down. His mind was not helping, as it kept trying to supply him with images of Sherlock being with a girl with lovely blonde hair like Nancy’s but it kept freezing up as if a computer drive crashing. He simply couldn’t imagine it. Sherlock. Sherlock, being with a girl, especially a girl like Nancy. _A pretentious girl_ like Nancy. Now that he thought about her, he couldn’t help dismissing her as being too posh and prancing about Sherlock in her preppy accent and shiny golden hair.

 

“JOHN?” Sherlock’s loud voice brought him back to the present. “What the hell happened to you? Honestly you have enough experience with sex to know how it works. It wasn’t a summertime romance if that’s what you’re imagining.”

 

And now John wasn’t, he was unfortunately imagining something else entirely. A Sherlock with no love, but pure, bold lust in his eyes for Nancy, as they fell into an elaborate fling, not being able to take their hands off each other; hiding from their parents, doing things to each other that John must have seen in old B-grade films.

 

  “John.” Sherlock’s voice was quiet as he studied him closely.

John looked up into his eyes.

“Are you alright?”

  “Wh- ...Ya, yes. I’m alright.” John tried to clear his eyes of any images.

“Did I say something inappropriate?”

  “What? No. No, Sherlock, it’s absolutely fine. Fine.”

  Sherlock narrowed his eyes. “Then why did you react like that?”

“No. It’s just... You really slept with her?” his eyes widened.

  Sherlock squirmed again. Clearly he didn’t like this topic and John took some pleasure in that. “Oh god, John, I didn’t think you were one to have idle hobbies like gossiping. Yes, we slept together. Are you really going to shout that out now?”

“I.. no. I mean I never expected that you’d...”

“That I’d what? Been with a girl before? Or had sex before?”

“Well.. yeah.. I just never expected that you were straight. Not that I thought you were a virgin. Well maybe...”

Sherlock scoffed, or sniffed. John really wasn’t sure which and looked at him with a really sharp look. John swallowed.

“John, you couldn’t have honestly believed that I’d had no experience sexually. It is my job to study every motive, every possible human impulse that causes men and women to do things that we consider unimaginable, even gruesome. How did you think that I would neglect one of the most probable causes of motive in most criminal cases. Did you really think me so naive, or so innocent or malfunctional?”

“Not the last surely..” blabbered John.

“So you thought of me as an innocent lamb, unaware of the ways of the world?”, laughed Sherlock.

“Certainly not.” John spit out. “Though I did not want anyone to hurt you that way.” he said it out loud unbelievably.

Sherlock once again looked surprised and there was a look of wonder on his face.

“I’m not you know.”

  “You’re not what?”

“Straight.”

There was a look in his eyes that John couldn’t really understand. He was looking at John really carefully, as though reading his face and filing away every response that he observed. His eyes were such a clear blue, John thought that if he looked long enough, he might just drown into them, and tried to shake himself off.

John cleared his throat. “Okay, so you’re gay.”

“Not entirely.”

“Oh.”

“Yes.”

  “So, how was she?”,John couldn’t believe he was asking this question. Sherlock never asked him if he’d shagged his girlfriends alright ever.

Sherlock seemed very amused by something, but hid it carefully. “It was an all-round awful experience. Not just because it was her, and it felt like I was kissing a sister or something, but because we were living by the sea and there was a terrible storm and the wind kept howling, and half the time I kept wondering if the roof of the shed we were in was going to cave in. Every year we would go by the sea, where all the families would meet and have a get-together. Ya, it has possibly scarred me for life”, his teeth glinted. John deadpanned.

 “But she was very enthusiastic, which impossibly actually made it worse. It was my first time, but clearly not hers and it pleased her a lot. The only reason I did it was because our parents had left us in this awful weather in this awful place and there was nothing else to do and it didn’t seem like a bad idea at first. I thought maybe she would even get off my back after that. She was always very inquisitive and annoying when it came to me and my life.”

“And then what happened?”, John couldn’t keep the accusing tone out of his voice. Sure, he didn’t want her, but he still did it anyway, didn’t he?

“Well, then it was over and it was awkward and strange because she still wanted to keep doing it, and I well, didn’t.”

John raised an eyebrow.

“What?” said Sherlock.

“So, she was in love with you.”

“What? No, of course not. She never told me anything like it.”

John, if possible, looked even wearier.

“You think she was...? You think because.. she still-”

  “How many times have you seen a girl proposition a boy who shows no interest in her whatsoever?”, challenged John.

There was a quiet moment in which Sherlock’s eyes went round and his mouth formed a circle in an ‘Oh’.

John was smirking now. Sherlock frowned and questioned him.

“So this is what it feels like to correct the great Sherlock Holmes. Remember this day Sherlock.” he smiled cheekily.

 For a moment Sherlock’s eyes looked dark staring deep into his eyes and John felt a strange stir deep inside.

“But I won’t forget,” said Sherlock in a voice so deep it made John rethink many things, “That you thought I was an unsuspecting prey to sexual predators. Because I assure you John,” his voice purred, “I can bat for either side.”

Sherlock had bowed his head to whisper the last sentence into his ear, and John felt as though he had melted faster than ice. Sherlock Holmes, murmuring sexual innuendo into his ear in the most sensual way possible! What had his world come to! John was loving it, nonetheless.

Sherlock had a big smirk on his face knowing what his voice did to John, and simply to wipe off that smirk, or maybe something more, John smashed his lips against Sherlock’s.

    It wasn’t what John had expected at all, not that he had expected anything before this. But him kissing Sherlock, with his huge ego, and insatiable appetite for praises from John, him conquering Sherlock’s mouth, which so often threw tantrums into the wind, felt like swallowing Sherlock whole. It was an embrace and an acceptance more than anything, and then slowly it amounted to something so erotic, a dark heat pooling between them and John had to break away because, he still has to breath.

   But, oh, John had never even thought of Sherlock this way. He was tousle-haired; there was a blush all the way from his high cheekbones that disappeared right into his tight grey shirt, his lips red and swollen and his eyes a bit dazed that peered at John with a lazy cheshire cat smile.

“Why do I  get the feeling that I’m the lamb here?” sighed John against Sherlock chest.

Sherlock looked so hungrily at him that for a moment he had to step back to  ‘proper’ himself in his pants.

“You can be anything you want, John, as long as we are right here. Just us.”, murmured Sherlock.

 “So what about the case? Are you taking it?”

“Already solved it”, smirked Sherlock. “But she doesn’t have to know that quite yet. She might value the services of a hard-working detective more if she knew the struggle and the _cost_ of it. You did say you wanted a new set of curtains for the living room?”

“Oh, you’re evil.”, but John just looked at him, admiring grudgingly.

“So who was it?”

“The uncle, of course. He couldn’t stand the sight of his brother succeeding where he had failed. He could see it all: his struggle to rise, his fall, and then how his brother took away his support and then stood up himself. He knew that the legacy he wanted to create for himself was now going to be his brother’s and his son-in-law’s after him. He saw an opportunity to  not only squander away some of the money that he felt his brother owed him, and to ruin his chances but also to destroy the family name forever by removing the future of his family, Nancy’s husband.”

“You are amazing”, smiled John.

Sherlock beamed.

“I think I deserve a good snog for that don’t you think?”, he nuzzled John’s neck, and started moving them towards his bedroom.

“Unless you mention her in bed, anything.”, muttered John.

And Sherlock chuckling, led him on.

 

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic ever. I hope it isn't err...not good?


End file.
